Читать книгу Second Chance Hero - Winnie Griggs - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Verity could tell Mr. Cooper was doing his best to avoid leaning against her. She saw his knuckles whiten as his grip on the table edge tightened, saw his muscles tauten to unbelievable levels, saw the sweat bead on the back of his neck. This couldn’t be good for that freshly stitched gash.

That reminder of his bandaged arm made her fingers tingle again. When she’d wrapped his arm earlier, she’d found it surprisingly difficult to maintain the polite detachment that usually came so easily to her. Instead she’d been keenly aware of the warmth of his skin, the sound of his breathing and the feel of his gaze on her.

That last had rattled her more than anything else. Why had he been staring at her with such intensity. What was he thinking? Did he believe it unladylike for a woman to do this sort of work? Or maybe he’d noticed her scar and was fascinated the way some folk were by such imperfections.

Uncle Grover asked him again if he’d prefer to have the boot cut off, but Mr. Cooper shook his head. Probably gritting his teeth too hard to speak, stubborn man.

A few excruciatingly long minutes later, he let out a single grunt of pain as her uncle managed to finally wrench the boot free. It was only then, as he reflexively sagged with relief, that he allowed himself to lean back against her.

She stood completely still, supporting his solid torso for the three heartbeats it took for realization to hit him. She knew the second it happened. He suddenly stiffened and then jerked upright again. Without turning, he tossed a mumbled apology over his shoulder. Was he embarrassed at what he might consider a show of weakness?

He removed the leather strip he’d been biting on and set it on the table beside him. Verity couldn’t help but notice how deep an impression his teeth had made.

She moved around to assist her uncle and winced at how red and swollen his ankle was. As her uncle went about his examination, she kept an eye on the patient. Mr. Cooper bore it stoically, but she saw the muscles in his jaw tighten each time her uncle put the least bit of pressure on the injury.

At last her uncle straightened. “Well, the good news is you have a sprain, not a break.”

“And the bad news?”

“You’re going to need to stay off of it for a while.”

Mr. Cooper frowned. That was obviously not what he’d wanted to hear. “How long?”

“If you want that ankle to heal properly I strongly suggest that you stay off of it for at least a week.”

Mr. Cooper raked a hand through his hair. “But it’s nothing that will keep me from my work?”

Uncle Grover gave him a severe look. “Only if you work sitting down.”

“I do. And I suppose I can use a cane to get around.”

“Crutches would be better. But with your bruised shoulder and the fresh stitches I’ve just applied to your arm, neither will be advisable for the next few days.”

Verity saw the rebellion in Mr. Cooper’s eyes. Then she realized that, like Hazel, he probably lived above his shop. Stairs would be very difficult, if not impossible, for him to navigate in his condition.

“What do you expect me to do in the meantime, just lie about?” His tone was short and clipped. “I have a business to run.” Then, as if he realized he’d been abrupt, his expression lost some of its hard edge. “I’m sorry. None of this is your fault.”

Verity disagreed. This was all her fault—he’d gotten injured because she hadn’t kept a close watch on her daughter. “Perhaps I can assist you in some way,” she offered. “I’m sure Uncle Grover can spare me for a few days.”

Before her uncle could confirm what she’d said, Mr. Cooper spoke up. “I appreciate the offer, ma’am, but I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll figure a way to work it out.”

Was he just being polite? Or was it that he wasn’t interested in having her around?

“You two can work that out later.” Uncle Grover’s stern look was aimed at them both. “For now, I would suggest Mr. Cooper stay here at the clinic, where we can keep him under observation.”

“I don’t think—”

Her uncle raised a hand. “If it’s money you’re worried about, don’t.” He met Mr. Cooper’s gaze with an earnest, direct look. “You were injured helping my great-niece—there will be no charge for anything related to your injuries.”

“That’s very kind of you. But—”

How did he expect to go anywhere without help? “The only place you’re going is to our infirmary.” She could see another protest forming on his lips so she tried again. “You need to listen to my uncle. With that knot on your head, someone should keep an eye on you, at least for the next twenty-four hours, and since you live alone, this is the best place for you. Besides, I believe you live in an apartment above your shop, is that correct?”

“Yes, but—”

Uncle Grover joined the debate. “Even if you could make that climb to the second floor—” his tone made it clear that was doubtful “—it’s not something you should be doing right now, not in your condition.”

Verity saw Mr. Cooper’s jaw tighten at the phrase “in your condition.”

“If need be I can bunk downstairs in the shop for a few days.”

“Young man, now you’re just being stubborn.”

“Besides,” Verity added, “we have a nice comfortable bed right through there.” She waved to a door in the far wall.

“It’s just a sprained ankle. I’m not some sickly bed patient.”

So his irritation stemmed from a bit of male pride. “Of course you’re not. We just want to make certain we take good care of you. Besides, meals are provided, and I promise you Aunt Betty’s cooking is something to look forward to. She has a pot of chicken and dumplings on the stove for lunch today.”

Without giving their patient a chance to argue further, Uncle Grover turned to Verity and nodded to one of the cabinets. “Please fetch Mr. Cooper something more comfortable to wear while I prepare a draught for him. Then you’ll need to step out so he can change.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the clothes I have on.”

Was the man going to fight them every step of the way?

“I was being polite,” Uncle Grover said. “Your shirt is now rags and the rest of your clothing is the worse for wear and, not to put too fine a point on it, filthy. For the sake of your health, and my niece’s and wife’s sensibilities, you need to change. There’s a clean nightshirt we keep here just for such circumstances.”

Verity hid a grin. Uncle Grover wasn’t averse to using a bit of blackmail to get his way, especially when he felt it was for his patient’s own good.

She placed a clean nightshirt on the table beside Mr. Cooper, then collected the soiled bandages and his discarded shirt and moved to the door. “I’ll take care of these and let Aunt Betty know we’ll have an occupant in the infirmary.”

Uncle Grover nodded absently. “Thank you, my dear.”

With a breezy smile for the still-glaring Mr. Cooper, she sailed out the door and closed it behind her.

She had to admit, she was pleased by the idea that Mr. Cooper would be under their roof a bit longer. It would give her an opportunity to get to know him better. Because she felt that the two of them were linked now in some intangible but very real way.

Partly because he’d saved her daughter’s life.

And partly because she felt that little tug of attraction whenever she was around him.

* * *

Nate swallowed down the unpleasant-tasting draught Dr. Pratt handed him without a word, but refused the man’s offer to help him change clothes. After the doctor made his exit, Nate frowned at the oversize nightshirt. This day had certainly taken an unexpected turn. It wasn’t a very auspicious milestone on the road to his fresh start.

Then again, it hadn’t been all bad. Getting to know Mrs. Leggett better certainly hadn’t been an unpleasant experience. Of course, she seemed to think of him as either a patient or hero, neither of which sat well with him.

Best not to think on how he wanted her to think of him, though. With a huff of frustration, he snatched up the nightshirt.

Nate had barely finished changing when he heard a light tap on the door. Had the doctor forgotten something? But when he bade the person enter, it turned out to be Dr. Pratt’s niece, rather than the doctor himself.

Verity entered the room and gave him an approving smile. Then she moved purposefully across the room. “Now let me get you settled into the clinic’s guest room.”

“Guest room, is it? I feel as if I was coerced rather than invited to stay there.” He watched her, admiring her efficient movements.

“Oh, come now, it’s not such a hardship to stay with us here, is it?”

How did he answer that? “I know you’re doing what you think best.” He offered her a half grin. “And guest room does sound friendlier than infirmary.”

His answer seemed to satisfy her, but she dropped the subject. Instead she waved a hand toward a door across from the one through which she’d entered. “Our clinic guest room has comfortable beds for long-term patients. Fortunately, it’s not in use right now so you’ll have it all to yourself.” She pulled a wheeled chair out from a corner of the room and pushed it over to him.

Ah, well, he supposed a conveyance that allowed him to sit up was preferable to that stretcher again.

She stood beside the examination table, obviously prepared to assist him.

“Where’s your uncle?”

“He was called out to tend to another patient. Don’t worry, I can get you situated.” She moved closer to the examination table. “Just place a hand on my shoulder for support.”

He didn’t much relish the idea of treating her like a support post, but it didn’t look as if he had much choice. “Thank you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, finding it both firm and soft at the same time. And then he caught the faint scent of honeysuckle again—it was all he could do not to inhale deeply.

Perhaps accepting her help wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

He carefully slipped from the table, using her shoulder for balance more than support, then slid into the chair.

As soon as she saw that he was settled in, she moved behind the chair and set it in motion. “Don’t worry, we’ll see that you’re made as comfortable as possible.”

“I don’t doubt that, but my shop—”

“Taken care of. I already asked Sheriff Gleason to have someone keep an eye on it so no one will be bothering it. If you’ll let me know where you keep your key, I can go by a little later and lock it up for you.”

The woman was nothing if not efficient. “But that doesn’t take care of my dog.”

“Oh, my.” He heard the dismay in her voice. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Then, as they crossed into the other room, “Of course we must see to your dog.” There was a short pause where he could almost feel the wheels turning in her mind. “I suppose I’ll just have to bring him here until you’re well enough to go home.”

From the way she said that, he could tell she wasn’t particularly happy about it. Did she blame Beans for the accident? “Perhaps I should just go home after all.”

“Nonsense. Joy has been after me for ages to get her a pet. You wouldn’t want to deny her this taste of what it would be like, would you?”

Before he could respond, she moved on. “I don’t imagine you could do much work for the next day or two, anyway. And for that I’m truly sorry. It’s a poor reward for your valiant rescue.”

He wished she’d quit bringing up terms like rescue and hero. She was right about his condition, though. He certainly didn’t want to put out shoddy work by doing things one-handed. Nevertheless, it was frustrating to have to shut down his shop right now.

But he was suddenly feeling lethargic. Was it a delayed effect of his injuries? “Perhaps, just for today then. As to your question about the key, I keep it next to the till during the day.”

Mrs. Leggett parked the chair next to one of two comfortable-looking beds. She turned down the coverlet, then straightened and faced him again. “Now let me help you into bed.”

He nodded. While he was certain he could accomplish the task on his own, he found himself not quite so reluctant to accept her help this time.

She placed a hand around his waist as he stood, then helped him ease over to the bed. Once he’d swung his legs into the bed, she fussily arranged the light coverlet over him.

“There now.” She stepped back. “That draught Uncle Grover gave you should help ease your pain and also help you to sleep, which is the best thing for you right now. We’ll talk again when you wake up.”

A sleeping draught? No wonder his lids were feeling heavy.

She pointed to a cord that hung in easy reach of the bed. “If you need anything, pull that cord. It’ll ring a bell in the house and one of us will be right in to see what you need.”

He tried to watch as she bustled about the room, but his eyelids were getting heavier. She pulled the curtains closed, cocooning the room in shadow. He lost sight of her for a moment, then suddenly she was there bending over him. “One last question. I’m afraid your trousers and shirt are in a sorry state. Would you like me to get you a fresh change of clothes when I fetch your dog?”

Were they really talking about his clothing now? “I suppose. They’re in the wardrobe in my bedchamber.”

She smoothed the covers over his chest one more time, and the gesture brought him back to a time when his family had been intact and his world had been pleasant and uncomplicated.

“Sleep now,” she said softly. “We’ll talk again when you wake up.”

So he did.

* * *

Verity softly closed the door behind her. Mr. Cooper was a true hero in her book—literally a godsend to her and Joy. She was only sorry he’d paid such a steep price for his quick action and bravery. If only there was something she could do to make certain his business didn’t suffer for his absence.

She headed for the kitchen, where she found Joy and Aunt Betty preparing lunch. Verity still felt the need to reassure herself that her baby was okay.

Aunt Betty looked up. “How’s our patient doing?”

“He’s settled in the infirmary.” Verity moved to stand behind Joy’s chair and placed a hand lightly on the girl’s shoulder. “Hopefully he’ll sleep for a few hours.”

Her aunt nodded. “Poor man. Sleep’s the best thing for him.”

“Before he fell asleep, he reminded me that he has a dog.” Joy’s head went up at the mention of the animal. “I assured him I’d see to it while he’s laid up.” She gave her aunt a diffident look. “I can check on it several times during the day, of course. But I was wondering what you would think about my bringing the animal here instead. I know Uncle Grover doesn’t like house pets, but it’s a small dog, so it shouldn’t be much trouble.”

Her aunt hesitated for just a moment, then spoke. “Of course you should bring it here. I’m sure your uncle will agree, it’s the least we can do for the man who saved our little Joy.”

“Thank you.” Relieved, Verity rushed to reassure her aunt. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure the animal doesn’t get in your or Uncle Grover’s way.”

Aunt Betty gave her a gently chiding look. “Verity dear, this is your and Joy’s home now, too. You must learn to treat it as such.”

Only it wasn’t, not really. Verity felt that longing again to have a house of her very own. If only she could open a millinery shop with some assurance it wouldn’t fail.

Joy, who was practically squirming in her seat, looked up. “Are you really going to get Beans?”

Verity smiled at the hopeful expression on her daughter’s face. “I am. Would you like to come with me?”

Joy immediately slid from her chair. “Yes, ma’am.”

As she and Joy headed out a few minutes later, Verity found herself moving with a bounce in her step. She tried to tell herself that it was just an eagerness to get this errand taken care of, but she knew better. Was it wrong of her to be so intrigued by the idea of getting a peek at Mr. Cooper’s lodgings?

Then she pulled her shoulders back. Of course not. It was nothing more than a natural urge to learn more about the man who’d saved her daughter’s life.

Or at least that’s what she told herself.